My beloved Major Mackie, a rescue Westie, died a little over a week ago.
He had lived here on the farm more than 11 years. I estimate he was 14 years old. That is a good age for a Westie. It was not nearly long enough for me.
Mackie's Gotcha Day was January, 16, 2007. That was the day he came to live on the farm. The foster mom believed he was a Katrina dog, a dog surrendered by a family after Hurricane Katrina or found wandering after Hurricane Katrina.
Mackie died in his sleep after about a week of failing health. He had that Westie Lung Disease, and he managed well with it until that final week.
There are many posts about him on this blog, which I now cherish. I wish I had not stopped blogging for those four years. I would have had many more Mackie memories recorded.
Mackie had a "John Wayne" personality, but he always found a way to discretely tell me he loved me.
His last best friend was a chicken named Marianne. She grieved Mackie's death for more than a week, and I thought I was going to lose her too. She started eating again two days ago, in day seven of her grieving fast.
Mackie let her eat from his bowl of rice and chicken. She slept next to him or on him. The night he died, she would not leave his side, roosting next to his cold stiff body until it was removed.
Ok, the tears have started. I will add to this post when I can. I love and miss you, my Mackadoo!